They made their way to the church of Santa Maria in Cosmedin and climbed its bell tower. Carefully guided by Bartolomeo and La Volpe, Claudia fearlessly threw herself into the void just as the golden orb of the sun broke free of the eastern horizon, catching the folds in her silver dress in its light and turning them golden too. Ezio watched her land safely and walk with Bartolomeo and La Volpe in the direction of a nearby colonnade. Now Machiavelli and Ezio were left alone. Just as Machiavelli was about to make his leap, Ezio stopped him.
‘Why the sudden change of heart, Niccolò?’
Machiavelli smiled. ‘What change of heart? I have always stood by you. I have always been loyal to the cause. My fault is independent thinking. That is what caused the doubts in your mind – and in Gilberto’s. Now we are free of all that unpleasantness. I never sought the leadership. I am … more of an observer. Now, let us take our leap of faith together, as friends and fellow warriors of the Creed!’
Machiavelli held out his hand and, smiling, Ezio took it firmly in his grasp. Then they threw themselves off the roof of the campanile together.
Scarcely had they landed and rejoined their companions than a courier rode up. Breathless, he announced, ‘Maestro Machiavelli, Cesare has returned to Rome alone from his latest foray in the Romagna. He rides for the Castel Sant’Angelo.’
‘Grazie, Alberto,’ said Machiavelli, as the courier wheeled his horse round and sped back the way he had come.
‘Well?’ Ezio asked him.
Machiavelli showed his palms. ‘The decision is yours, not mine.’
‘Niccolò, you had better not stop telling me what you think. I now seek the opinion of my most trusted advisor.’
Machiavelli smiled. ‘In this case you know my opinion already. It hasn’t changed. The Borgia must be eradicated. Go, and kill them, Mentore. Finish the job you have started.’
‘Good advice.’
‘I know,’ Machiavelli looked at him appraisingly.
‘What is it?’ Ezio asked.
‘I had been thinking of writing a book about Cesare’s methods. Now, I think I will balance it with an examination of yours.’
‘If you’re writing a book about me,’ said Ezio, ‘better make it a short one!’
42
Ezio arrived at the Castel Sant’Angelo to find that a crowd had gathered on the opposite bank of the Tiber. Blending in with the gathered masses, he made his way to the front, and saw that the French troops guarding the bridge that led to the Castel, and the Castel itself, were in total disarray. Some soldiers were already packing up their equipment, while officers and lieutenants moved frantically among them, issuing orders to unpack again. Some of the orders were contradictory, and, as a result, here and there fights had broken out. The Italian crowd was watching, Ezio noted, with quiet pleasure. Though he carried his own clothes in a satchel slung over his shoulder, Ezio had taken the precaution of once more donning the French uniform he had worn in the attack on Castra Praetoria, and he now shed the cloak he’d been wearing to cover it, and walked quickly onto the bridge. No one paid him any attention, but as he passed among the French troops, he gleaned useful snippets of conversation.
‘When are we expecting the attack from d’Alviano and his mercenaries?’
‘They say he’s on his way now.’
‘Then why are we packing? Are we retreating?’
‘I hope so! Tout cela, c’est rien qu’un tas de merde.’
A private spotted Ezio. ‘Sir! Sir! What are our orders?’
‘I’m on my way to see,’ replied Ezio.
‘Sir!’
‘What is it?’
‘Who’s in charge now, sir? Now that General de Valois is dead?’
‘No doubt the King is sending a replacement.’
‘Is it true, sir, that he died valorously in battle?’
Ezio smiled to himself. ‘Of course it’s true. At the head of his men.’
He moved on towards the Castel itself.
Once inside, he found his way up to the ramparts, and from his vantage point looked down to the courtyard, where he spotted Cesare talking to a captain of the Papal Guard who was posted at the door of the inner citadel.
‘I need to see the Pope!’ Cesare said urgently. ‘I need to see my father now!’
‘Of course, Your Grace. You will find His Holiness in his private apartments at the top of the Castel.’
‘Then get out of my way, you fool!’ Cesare thrust past the hapless captain as the latter gave hasty orders for a wicket gate in the main door to be opened to admit him. Ezio watched for a moment, then made his way around the circumference of the Castel until he came to the place where the secret gate was located. He dropped to the ground and let himself through with Pietro’s key.
Once inside, he looked around warily, then, seeing no one, he dived down a stairway in the direction of the cells from which he’d rescued Caterina Sforza. Finding a quiet spot, he swiftly shed the French lieutenant’s uniform and changed back into his own clothes, which were designed for the work he had to do. He checked his weapons quickly, strapping on the Bracer and the Poison Blade, and checking that he had a supply of poison darts safely stowed in his belt. Then, hugging the walls, he made off in the direction of the stairway that led to the top of the Castel. The way was guarded and he had to send three soldiers to their Maker before he could proceed.
At last he arrived at the garden where he had watched Lucrezia and her lover keep their tryst. In daylight he could see that her apartments were part of a complex. Larger and even grander ones stood beyond, and he guessed these to be the Pope’s. But as he was making off in that direction he was interrupted by a conversation coming from within Lucrezia’s rooms. He made his way stealthily to the open window, where the voices were coming from, and listened. He could just see Lucrezia, apparently none the worse for wear after her ordeal in the cells, talking to the same attendant he’d seen her entrust with the information about her affair with Pietro, which he had passed on to her jealous brother, with evident success to judge by Cesare’s fast return to Rome.
‘I don’t understand it,’ Lucrezia was saying irritably. ‘I ordered a fresh batch of cantarella only last night. Toffana was to have delivered it to me personally by noon. Did you see her? What’s going on?’
‘I’m terribly sorry, mia signora, but I’ve just heard that the Pope intercepted the delivery. He’s taken it all for himself.’
‘That old bastard. Where is he?’
‘In his rooms. Madonna, There’s a meeting—’
‘A meeting? With whom?’
The attendant hesitated. ‘With Cesare, Madonna.’
Lucrezia took this in, then said, half to herself, ‘That’s strange. My father didn’t tell me Cesare was back here again.’
Deep in thought, she left the room.
Alone, the attendant started to tidy up, rearranging tables and chairs and muttering under his breath.
Ezio waited a moment to see if there would be any more useful information imparted, but all the attendant said was, ‘That woman gives me so much trouble … Why didn’t I stay in the stables, where I was well off? Call this promotion?! I put my head on the block every time I run an errand. And I have to taste her food for her every time she sits down to a bloody meal.’ He paused for a moment. Then added, ‘What a family!’
43
Ezio left before he heard those last words. He slipped through the garden towards the Pope’s apartments and, since the single entrance was heavily guarded and he did not want to draw attention to himself – it wouldn’t be long before the bodies of the guards he’d killed below stairs were discovered – he found a place where he could climb up to one of the principal windows of the building unobtrusively. His hunch that this would be a window giving on to the Pope’s chamber paid off, and it had a broad external sill where he could perch at one end whilst remaining out of sight. Using the blade of his dagger, he was able to prise a side light open a fraction so that he could hear anything that migh
t be said inside.
Rodrigo – Pope Alexander VI – was alone in the room, standing by a table on which lay a large silver bowl of red and yellow apples, whose position he adjusted nervously as the door opened and Cesare entered, unannounced. He was clearly angry, and without preamble, he launched into a bitter diatribe.
‘What the hell is going on?’ he began.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ replied his father with reserve.
‘Oh yes you do. My funds have been cut off and my troops dispersed.’
‘Ah. Well, you know that after your banker’s tragic … demise, Agostino Chigi took over all his affairs …’
Cesare laughed mirthlessly. ‘Your banker! I might have known. And my men?’
‘Financial difficulties strike all of us from time to time, my boy, even those of us with armies and overweening ambition.’
‘Are you going to get Chigi to release money to me or not?’
‘No.’
‘We’ll see about that!’ Angrily, Cesare snatched an apple from the bowl. Ezio saw that the Pope was watching his son carefully.
‘Chigi won’t help you,’ said the Pope levelly. ‘And he’s too powerful for you to bend him to your will.’
‘In that case,’ said Cesare, sneering, ‘I’ll use the Piece of Eden to get what I want. It will render your help unnecessary.’ He bit into the apple with a mean smile.
‘That has been made abundantly clear to me already,’ said the Pope drily. ‘By the way, I suppose you are aware that General de Valois is dead?’
Cesare’s smile disappeared in a flash. ‘No. I have only just returned to Rome.’ His tone became threatening. ‘Did you … ?’
The Pope spread his hands. ‘What possible reason would I have had to kill him? Or was he plotting against me, perhaps, with my own, dear, brilliant, treacherous Captain-General?’
Cesare took another bite of the apple. ‘I do not have to stand for this!’ he snarled as he chewed.
‘If you must know, the Assassins murdered him.’
Cesare swallowed, his eyes wide. Then his face went dark with fury. ‘Why did you not stop them?’
‘As if I could.’ It was your decision to attack Monteriggioni, not mine. It’s high time you took responsibility for your misdeeds – if it’s not too late.’
‘My actions, you mean,’ replied Cesare proudly. ‘Despite the constant interference of failures like you.’
The younger man turned to go, but the Pope hurried round the table to block his way to the door.
‘You’re not going anywhere,’ Rodrigo growled. ‘And you are deluded. I have the Piece of Eden.’
‘Liar. Get out of my way, you old fool.’
The Pope shook his head sadly. ‘I gave you everything I could, and yet it was never enough.’
At that instant, Ezio saw Lucrezia burst into the room, her eyes wild.
‘Cesare!’ she shrieked. ‘Be careful! He intends to poison you!’
Cesare froze. He looked at the apple in his hand, spitting out the chunk he had just bitten, his face a mask. Rodrigo’s own expression changed from one of triumph to one of fear. He backed away from his son, putting the table between them.
‘Poison me?’ said Cesare, his eyes boring into his father’s.
‘You would not … listen to reason,’ stammered the Pope.
Cesare smiled as he advanced, very deliberately, on Rodrigo, saying, ‘Father. Dear Father. Do you not see? I control everything. All of it. If I want to live, despite your efforts, I shall live. And if there is anything – anything – I want, I take it.’ He came close to the Pope and seized him by the collar, raising the poisoned apple in his hand. ‘For example, if I want you to die, you die!’
Pulling his father close he shoved the apple into his open mouth before he had time to close it and, grabbing him by the head and jaw, forced his lips together and held them shut. Rodrigo struggled and choked on the apple, unable to breathe. He fell to the floor in agony and his two children coldly watched him die.
Cesare wasted no time and, kneeling, searched his dead father’s robes. There was nothing. He stood and bore down on his sister, who shrank from him.
‘You … you must seek help. The poison is in you,’ she cried.
‘Not enough,’ he barked hoarsely. ‘Do you really think I am such a fool as not to have taken a prophylactic antidote before coming here? I know what a devious old toad our father was, and how he would react if he thought for a moment that real power was slipping in my direction. Now, he said he had the Piece of Eden.’
‘He … he … was telling the truth.’
Cesare slapped her. ‘Why was I not told?’
‘You were away … he had it moved … he feared the Assassins might—’
Cesare slapped her again. ‘You plotted with him!’
‘No! No! I thought he had sent messengers to tell you.’
‘Liar!’
‘I am telling the truth. I really thought you knew, or at least had been informed, of what he’d done.’
Cesare slapped her again, harder this time, so that she lost her balance and fell.
‘Cesare,’ she said as she struggled for breath, panic and fear in her eyes, ‘are you mad? I am Lucrezia. Your sister. Your friend. Your lover. Your queen.’ Rising, she put her hands timidly to his cheeks to stroke them. But Cesare’s response was to grab her round the throat and shake her, as a terrier shakes a ferret.
‘You’re nothing but a bitch.’ He brought his face close to hers, thrusting it at her aggressively. ‘Now tell me,’ he continued, his voice dangerously low. ‘Where is it?’
Disbelief showed in her voice when she replied, gagging as she struggled to speak, ‘You … never loved me?’
His response was to let go of her throat and hit her again, this time close to the eye, with a closed fist.
‘Where is the Apple? THE APPLE!’ he screamed. ‘Tell me!’
She spat in his face and he took her arm and threw her to the floor, kicking her hard as he repeated his question over and over again. Ezio tensed, forcing himself not to intervene – after all, he had to know the answer – though he was appalled at what he was witnessing.
‘All right. All right,’ she said at last, in a broken voice.
He pulled her to her feet and she placed her lips close to his ear, whispering, to Ezio’s fury.
Satisfied, Cesare pushed her away. ‘Smart decision, little sister.’ She tried to cling to him, but he pushed her away with a gesture of disgust and strode from the room.
As soon as he had gone, Ezio smashed through the window and landed close to Lucrezia who, the spirit drained from her, slumped against the wall. Ezio quickly knelt by Rodrigo’s inert body and felt for a pulse.
There was none.
‘Requiescat in Pace,’ whispered Ezio, rising again and confronting Lucrezia. Looking at him she smiled bitterly, a little of the fire returned to her eyes at the sight of him.
‘You were there? All the time?’
Ezio nodded.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘I know where the bastard is going.’
‘Tell me.’
‘With pleasure. Saint Peter’s. The pavilion in the courtyard.’
‘Thank you, Madonna.’
‘Ezio.’
‘Yes?’
‘Be careful.’
44
Ezio raced along the Passetto di Borgo, which ran through the rione of Borgo and connected the Castel Sant’Angelo with the Vatican. He wished he’d been able to bring some of his men with him, or that he’d had time to find a horse, but urgency lent his feet wings, and any guards he encountered were swiftly thrown aside in his headlong rush.
Once in the Vatican, Ezio made his way to the pavilion in the courtyard, where Lucrezia had indicated the Apple would be. With Rodrigo gone, there was a fair chance that there would be a new Pope on whom the Borgia could have no influence, since the College of Cardinals, apart from those members who’d been well and truly bought, were fed up and disgusted
at being pushed around by this foreign family.
But for now Ezio had to stop Cesare, before he could get hold of the Apple and use its power – however dimly he might understand it – to regain all the ground he had lost.
Now was the time to strike his enemy down for good – it was now or never.
Ezio reached the courtyard only to find it deserted. He noticed that at its centre there was, instead of a fountain, a large sandstone sculpture of a pine cone in a stone cup on a plinth. It stood perhaps ten feet high. He scanned the rest of the sunlit courtyard, but it was bare, with a dusty white floor that burnt his eyes with its brightness. There wasn’t even a colonnade, and the walls of the surrounding buildings had no decoration at all, though there were rows of narrow windows high up and, at ground level, one plain door on each side, all of which were closed. It was an unusually austere place.
He looked again at the pine cone and approached it. Looking closely, he could just discern a narrow gap between the dome of the cone and its body, running round the whole circumference. Climbing up the plinth, he found he was able to steady himself by gripping with his toes and, holding on with one hand, he ran the other round the rim of the cone where the gap was, feeling carefully for any possibly imperfection that might disclose a hidden trigger or button.
There! He’d found it. Gently, he pressed it, and the top of the cone sprang open on hitherto hidden bronze hinges, firmly screwed into the soft stone and strengthened with cement. In the centre of the hollow space that was now revealed, he saw a dark green leather bag. He fumbled at its drawstring with his hand, and the faint glow he saw within its depths confirmed his hopes; he had found the Apple!
His heart was in his mouth as he carefully lifted the bag free – he knew the Borgia, and there was no guarantee that it might not be booby-trapped, but he had to take that risk.
Where the hell was Cesare? The man had had a good few minutes’ start on him, and had doubtless ridden here on horseback.
‘I’ll take that,’ cried a cold, cruel voice behind him. Bag in hand, Ezio dropped lightly to the ground and turned to confront Cesare, who had just burst through the southern wall door, followed by a troop of his personal guard, who fanned out round the courtyard, surrounding Ezio.
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